| Triggers bustin', niggas duckin', I got the right clip
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| Good manners or the damage, a nigga might tip
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| I drive the boat for the passengers
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| This a Kodak moment, a nigga might drift
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| I work smarter not harder, this is a life tip
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| Can’t get your show on the road, niggas need a pilot (Uh)
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| You niggas trash still slavin' away on Sylenth
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| Matter of fact you slaves no matter who niggas sign with (Uh)
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| Lemme look at your deal, 21 Savage
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| To these Milli Vanilli ass niggas
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| Don’t even own what they rhymin' (Facts)
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| I can’t take this livin' all alone, I’m Phyllis Hyman
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| Billie Eilish got four GRAMMYs, it’s frightenin'
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| Slick old nigga, I’m Peabo Bryson
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| Flows be so-so, you off key
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| Rappin' like it’s '04, wrote this in Red Monkeys
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| Uh
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| Steady hand Peggy, my production is a diamond
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| Precision, execution, and timin', slick rhymin'
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| Pick up the pattern, tackle melodies like a lineman (Huh)
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| Rappin' offsides, throw the flag when you fine him
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| Up in your turf with a bomb and a plan
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| Flowin' in enemy territory, I feel like Walt White
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| Teach you niggas how to get busy on USB mics
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| Rappin' like Schoolly D and dressing like Magnum P. I
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| She need a tip drill, Peggy been uncut since E. I
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| All these amateurs, they can’t keep up with my stamina (Nope)
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| Ebony, wrong category
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| You ain’t built for what you backin' up
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| Make your bitch back it up
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| All these weird beats, you commentin' while I’m stackin' up
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| Gots to find new wave, these niggas stay attackin' us
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| Feel like a Titan when I’m strappin' up, my flow a bachelor
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| Get to fuckin' on the back of her and get attached to her
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| Pistol pokin', I look after her, your beats inaccurate
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| Muddy low end and you over-compressin'
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| 'Cause you don’t know what you doin', so you be stackin' it
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| Don’t know the diff' so they just hold and attack it
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| You impassionate, ungrateful
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| Mince meat, don’t mince words, bitch, I hate you
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| Thinkin' about what I’ma do and how I’ma do it when I face you
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| Oh, man, stupid |